


A call away, and never closer

by antevasin



Series: Across the darkness between the stars [2]
Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drakh Plague, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Pandemics, Post-Canon, Post-Movie: A Call to Arms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antevasin/pseuds/antevasin
Summary: Post-A Call to Arms, Sheridan calls his father while Delenn is watching.
Relationships: Delenn/John Sheridan
Series: Across the darkness between the stars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929421
Kudos: 7





	A call away, and never closer

**Author's Note:**

> I'm stuck in a red zone across a national border and missing my grandfather's 80th birthday so this is how I'm coping. Written in the middle of the night and barely proof-read, but I still like it somehow? My B5 fics seem to all be some quickly written things that my mind very desperately wants to get on the page before it starts cooperating with my calendar again.
> 
> I really wish we had seen something like this - Sheridan was obviously close to his father and it must have been hard for him to know he was in danger without being able to help.

She had not seen him in a state like this for a long time. There was an urgency about all his actions, the realization that what he didn't say, didn't do now he might never again get the chance to say or do. His movements were restless, and he could barely keep his hands still for a few seconds. While the viewscreen was building up a connection, he had stood up twice to pace through the room, had picked up a datapad and put it down again, had done the same thing with a framed photograph of his parents.

When the image of John's father appeared on the screen, her husband's face distorted in a desperately painful expression that hurt her to see. "Dad?" Even his voice trembled, something she didn't think she'd heard since the moment David was born, and the last time before that when they had bit farewell to an utterly broken Susan.

 _"Hey Johnny."_ Her father in law smiled broadly, the fondness in his eyes transcending the viewscreen's limitations. _"How you doing, son? Is the kid alright?"_

Delenn smiled. David was fine. Through the blissful innocence of the young, and upon John's insistence they keep the attack on Earth a secret - the boy was home on Minbar, but he loved his grandparents and had enjoyed every single one of their visits to the planet of his ancestors - his life had not just taken an unexpected, dramatic turn like that of almost every other Human in the known galaxy. It reminded her of the moment the old Earth government had placed the planet under martial law. Humans had been running around the station then like John rummaged around their house now, restless, eager to catch news yet anxious to learn them, hopeful and desperate all at once. It was curious, the dichotomy of conflicting emotions that seemed so common in the species.

In front of the screen, her husband gasped, exasperated. "Dad! You just survived an attack almost like the Line two days ago - you're all under quarantine, the time is ticking, and you ask about how _we_ are doing?" At the mention of the Line, Delenn felt something inside her contract. It was true - the Battle of the Line had become the one event that Humans now measured other interstellar catastrophes against. What had John called it, a yardstick? She did not know what a space battle could possibly have to do with gardens, but had long accepted that some of those English expressions would remain a mystery to her.

The elder David Sheridan had inclined his head to the side, almost smiling. _"That's my son,"_ he proclaimed, his voice full of the pride for his family that Delenn had found so very Minbari on their first meeting. _"Always trying to fix all of the galaxy's problems. You know the universe needs more people like you?"_ John just stared in disbelief, clearly grinding his teeth. She would have to find a way to get rid of that habit of his, or the tenseness in his muscles would soon leave him in pain, as if he didn't suffer enough of that already.

 _"You know, John… We're old people. We've lived our lives. Sure, there could be, what, twenty more years?"_ The shadow that darkened his face at that number seemed to blanket the room, extending to her, the knowledge that five of those twenty years had passed already, and how quickly the years he had left would run out. She knew John had told his parents about Lorien's time limit, but maybe it was not as central to their daily lives as it was to them, or at least her.

 _"- but we have lived long and good lives already. We've done our parts. And besides, you've done more than enough for this entire family."_ She saw John swallow, noticed how one of his hands was balled to a tight fist, the other grasping the table so firmly that his knuckles shone white. _"Your mother actually convinced me to go out and travel. I never thought I'd be able to leave the farm alone for more than a few days, but- I guess times have changed, hm? Anyways, we hired some new guys, people who lost their old jobs due to the travel embargo, so we're gonna get them trained for a few months and then the two of us will go on a trip. Why do you need to travel to other planets when you've barely seen a glimpse of your own?"_

In a startling contrast to his son, David seemed almost jovial, like someone who had just lost one opportunity and in it found another. She was reminded of something that Susan had once said, when they had admired the new War Room while simultaneously lamenting the need for its existence: _Babylon 5 had to fail as our best hope for peace to become our last hope for victory._ She had been quite right at that.

__

John shook his head. "Dad, I- I can't believe you're taking this so well." His voice was close to breaking now, and there was a slight tremble in his shoulders that Delenn noticed as a sign that he was trying to straighten his back, all in presidential mode, but had to fight through the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. She took a step into the room, leaving the doorframe behind. He would never say it out loud, but John needed her right now, needed a physical presence.

__

On the screen, David smiled crookedly. _"Someone's gotta do it, son. What else should we do, become all gloomy and bitter? Go crazy and try to flee the planet in a panicked frenzy?"_ He shook his head, grinning. _"Nah. You know I get spacesick even in orbit, where would we go?"_ His laugh was hollow, but at least it lit up John's face a little. _"You should watch the news some time - do presidents still have time for that? Half of it is politicians and doctors telling the people not to panic, the other half is the exact same people telling everyone this is serious. There's barely anything else they talk about! And if you're sick of the news, you can enjoy documentaries about the biggest plagues of the last 1000 years, discussions of the top selling disaster novels, and all kinds of celebrities telling you the ten things you should do before you die."_ He raised his hands and let them fall back down. _"The world's gone crazy, John, and I'm not about to follow it."_

__

"Good." There was so much pain in his voice, and yet she knew he tried to hold it back, for his father's sake. "We're doing everything we can to help, dad, and I'm trying… I'm trying to get other governments to help too. It's not easy, but maybe…" Under the table, out of his father's sight, he opened his fist, then clenched it again, repeating the motion rhythmically. Delenn stepped closer. "We are not giving up. We can't afford to lose this fight… so we won't."

__

From closer up, she saw the weariness in the wrinkled face, the tears glistening in David's eyes, and how the old man swallowed them down. _"Never start a fight…"_

__

"…but always finish it." John unclenched his fist, then quickly wiped his hand over his eyes. Delenn placed a hand on his shoulder, running her thumb back and forth across it in tiny soothing motions. He gripped her hand with his as a heavy sigh escaped him.

__

The face on the terminal smiled at her. _"Take care of my son, Delenn, will you?"_

__

She simply nodded, her chest suddenly feeling strangely constricted. "Of course," she finally forced out.

__

_"Good. And when this is all over…"_ Now there were tears trickling down his face, but unlike his son, he didn't bother to wipe them away. _"Maybe I'll make a trip all the way to Minbar after all."_ His mouth still smiled, but his eyes silently wept.

__

"Stay in touch, dad," John interjected, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Call me any time, okay? Day and night. Mom too. I love you."

__

_"As I love you, son."_ Both of the men seemed to agree that the conversation was over, but none of them was willing to actually end it. _"Don't forget your old man."_ With that, he cut the line and the screen went black.

__

Delenn glanced at her husband's face. It was frozen into a mask of calm, his eyes harsh like metal, but she knew it was nothing but pretence, a carefully contained fury. She admired him for his ability to appear this way, yet hated it every time she had to witness it. It was almost frightening. When he looked this way, she always feared that he was about to do something that would ultimately get him killed. He had stared just this way when he had left the White Star to take command of the Agamemnon for the battle for Earth. Now, just like then, the fate of his world hung in the balance, and she knew that no matter how much he was tethered to space his heart would always beat strongest for his homeworld - as did hers. She knew that if the same thing was happening on Minbar, she would be just as ready to exert quiet revenge… Snapshots of the war flashed before her eyes, and she suppressed a shudder. The Drakh might have been wise to not attack Minbar.

__

"John?" She wasn't sure what to say, just watched him, eyes big with sympathy, as he bit his lip and shook his head. Tentatively, she wrapped an arm around him. He leaned against her, burying his face in her dress, and squeezed her other hand, which he still held, tightly. When she felt the tears soak the fabric of her robes, she pulled him closer, standing still against the silent tremor in his shoulders. Part of her ached at seeing him like this, but another part was relieved that he finally allowed himself to grieve the loss of his world.

__

**Author's Note:**

> I love how I can just use my own messing up of English phrases for Delenn :)
> 
> Disaster novels are currently best-selling on Earth, and that's totally not 2020-inspired. Also, this would be a really interesting time to reboot Crusade.


End file.
